


Leap through reality

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2020-12-09 06:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20990084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When I try to take my own life, I could never have foreseen what would come afterwards.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: The following prologue contains a reference and description of suicide.   
For all of those who are sensitive to that topic, do not read or read only with caution. Basically the death will cause the jump from our modern world into the alternate reality of the 100.

Prologue

I lock the door to my apartment with the familiar clicking of the keys and I feel my façade instantly melt from my features. Fatigue clouds my mind all at once and even taking off my shoes and jacket turns into a challenge. Gone is the false smile and the proud posture, replaced with a deep frown and a slouched posture.

I let my bag drop onto the couch, not caring if the bottle inside breaks or not, as I sink down on the couch as well. It takes me a few moments of just mutely staring out of the window watching the clouds move to gather the will to stand up again.

I trudge into the bathroom with slow steps, undressing mechanically as I go and step into the shower. I do not wait for the water to turn hot; I barely react to the almost icy quality of the water. Now that the season outside was slowly but surely merging into winter, the temperature of the water had dropped several degrees.

The sensation of the water cascading down my body barely reaches my mind until the water has already turned so hot that it is nearly scalding my skin. I just feel the pain for a second before I reach out and slightly adjust the temperature to a still hot but bearable temperature.

I sink down onto the floor of the shower with a sob and the water from the shower washes my tears away too quick to even sense them trickle down my cheeks at all.

The day has been hard, exceptionally so.

“_Which day isn’t?” _my mind supplies unhelpfully. But I have to agree with it, the days have turned into an endless monotonous struggle, only interrupted by more arguments, more problems, more pain.

I do not know for how long I have been just sitting on the floor of the shower, falling deeper and deeper into the despair of my mind until I finally force myself up and go about washing my hair and body, feeling the still healing cuts on my hips burn when the soap rinses the wounds.

The bathroom is filled with humid air and my fingers are wrinkled strongly when I finally step out of the shower, but I pay it no mind. Taking long and silent showers has turned into the only salvation nowadays and I do not care one bit about how much water or energy I am wasting with it. I wipe over the surface of the mirror and hold my own gaze for a long silent moment.

Watery pale eyes gaze back at me with an empty quality to them and I feel my chest constrict painfully. I do not know if my eyes ever have sparkled with life and joy, but now they are dulled by a soul deep exhaustion, at times only glazed over with a sheen of tears.

I try to remember what I have learned in therapy weeks ago, allow the feeling to be and actually feel it, but the intensity of the pain swapping through my body is nearly too much to keep silent and I have to bite at my lips to contain the gasp at the hurricane like sensation.

I try to name the feeling causing this pain. Was it loneliness? It could be so much right now, that I fail to pin it down to one definite term. Exhaustion, desperation, loneliness, fear, pain … they are all blending together. 

“Take responsibility over your life” the voice of my therapist echoes through my mind unbidden.

I sigh deeply as I turn away from the mirror in rising disgust, feeling my stomach clench. My eyes fall onto the razor blade still lying on the sink and I bite my lips harshly trying to resist the urge to pick it up and cause another wound on my body as I quickly leave the bathroom altogether.

I pick up my phone and check the messages on it. A missed call from my grandmother, three missed calls from my mother, a few messages from my best friend.

The message from one of my online friends makes me pause. I had told him in the morning about how I was struggling again. He offers to talk, telling me to please take care of myself and how important I was to him, how much he loved me.

I sigh again, searching for a fitting answer. I know that a reasonable emotional response would be to feel touched, but I just feel crowded and like a liar. When I think of him, I feel nothing.

I do not know what is wrong with me, but something clearly is.

The letter from the clinic holding their report on the desk next to me almost screams at me. I have read their report over and over again during the last days and a few words are almost branded into my mind by now.

“…Borderline disorder… severe depressive episode … high risk of suicidality… compulsive … emotional unstable … clear indication for further therapy…”

My mind is mostly stuck on the word “disorder”, giving me the proof that indeed something is unnormal and wrong about my personality, which basically means that I am indeed broken.

The therapists have told me repeatedly that this is just a meaningless term and that it all depends on being responsible for your own life, that it is not a disease.

My lips curl into a grim smile as I trudge over to the fridge and take out a bottle of red wine, pouring myself a large glass. My resolve is hardening with each minute passing. I have had “big” plans for my life. Graduate my PhD, land a job, hopefully somewhere far away, discover something from the world, but it has all turned meaningless.

I would take responsibility, the responsibility to remove the tarnish of my existence from this world.

Sadness joins the painstaking loneliness at that thought. Sadness not for myself, but for all the people I would be letting down. I know that there are people who will genuinely mourn for me, but I think it is better that way. Whatever I touch, I destroy. I live to hurt and disappoint those around me. They will mourn me, but they will hopefully forget me quickly as well.

I do not know how my family will cope with it, but all the conversations with my parents during the last weeks give me the reassurance that I am already doing everything wrong anyway.

I consider writing a short goodbye note to the few online friends I have, but discard the idea again. They might not even notice my absence after all.

I pick up my phone again after downing the whole glass of wine at once, pulling a grimace at the slightly too sour taste. I know that I need to call my parents and tell them that I would not be there to speak in the evening, that they should not expect a call until tomorrow. A slight sliver of guilt settles into my mind. I have never been good at lying and I hate lies, they just complicate everything. But I know that this one will be necessary.

I type a message to my lab mates, telling them that I am not feeling well and will not be able to join their planned dinner tonight. It is better if I do not see them again, or I might say something which would tip them off. I know that some of them are already watching me daily, critically trying to estimate how close to breaking I am currently.

I feel sorry for the girl who shares my office and has become my best friend during the past months. She will probably miss me the most and she has been a wonderful friend and I know that she will blame herself.

I sit down at my desk again, typing a general goodbye note. I have done that a few times already in the last months, so I already know well what I am going to write. I drink more wine, while I type away. I specifically address a few paragraphs to the important people in my life. Most of it directly addresses my family, some paragraphs are for my boss and lab mates and one paragraph addresses my therapist. I do not bother to write down something for my online friends, I know that my family will not take the time and effort to make sure that they receive them. I do not want any of them to blame themselves; they could not have done anything to safe me and it is no one’s fault but my own that I am like this.

I already feel the effect of the alcohol coursing through my system when I close my laptop again and get the tablets, I will need to make sure that the attempt is a success. I take the first one with another mouthful of wine. I know that I need to take three in the course of six hours for them to take effect and I cannot risk that this is going to fail, I am too afraid to life through the aftermath.

_“Six hours left” _I think with a slight frown, I have always been impatient and hate waiting with a passion. I have expected to feel something negative with this realisation. But I do not feel afraid or anything, instead my mind is peacefully calm for once.

I wonder for a few minutes if there was anything specific, I still want to do in my last hours, but in the end, I spend the last six hours of my life listening to my favourite music, drinking the rest of the bottle of wine and taking some other tablets too, just to be sure.

When my time is almost up, I prepare myself a bath, filled to the brim with sweet smelling water and dress into a bikini. Why I think that I should not be naked when I am found, I do not know. I have pinned a piece of paper to the bathroom door, cautioning whoever finds me to not enter and call the police instead. I know that no one will even think to search for me long before it is too late. It is Friday night and the earliest I will really be missed will be Monday morning when I do not show up to hand in my PhD thesis.

I take the container with the poisonous salt out of my closet. I know that I should have destroyed it, but I am immensely glad to have it now. I dissolve a huge amount of the salt in a glass of water; I do not even bother to scale it. “_What should happen overdosed on poison?” _I think almost sarcastically as I down the whole glass in one go, too quickly for the horrid taste to penetrate my slow mind. I know that the tablets I have taken will prevent me from vomiting it all up before it takes effect. I did my research; I know that it will be over quickly now.

I take the razor blade with me into the tube as I sit down in the gently streaming water a few moments later. I toy with it in my fingers. I had hesitated before to place any cuts on my arms. I wear short sleeved shirts way too often for the cuts to go unnoticed, but I have wanted to cut there and I guess that adding blood loss could certainly only make this safer, so I press the thin blade down on my arm, slicing as deeply as I can into the soft flesh.

I watch the blood begin to pour out with rapt fascination. I would have expected that such a deep cut would hurt immensely, but I do not feel it at all. It takes me a second to notice that there are black dots dancing in front of my eyes and I sigh deeply, feeling my body already relax as the first real smile in months settles onto my lips and all I can think as I begin to lose consciousness is _“Finally…”_.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

I weak up slowly with a hazy mind and it takes me long moments to even realize fully that I am indeed waking up.

The first thought rushing through my mind before paralyzing fear floods my system is “_Fuck! I have failed!”_

The thought lets tears burn behind my closed eyelids. I am honestly afraid of opening my eyes. I have no idea who could have found me in time to save me, it should have been impossible.

I try to focus on my breathing, trying my hardest to get my frantically beating heart to beat slower. I know that I will only work myself into a panic attack if I don’t.

Next, I try to focus on the surface beneath me and what I feel makes me pause. I expect to be residing in some form of hospital, maybe even fastened to a bed, but I am most definitely not even lying on a bed.

“_Is that grass?” _I wonder with a frown as my panic diffuses slowly. I take a deep breath, eyes still closed, focusing on the smells around me and my frown only deepens. There is no stench of antiseptics in the air, the smell I immediately associate with a hospital, instead I am surrounded by a weirdly earthy smell.

_“Am I in hell?”_ I wonder, finally gathering the courage to blink my eyes open. I have to close them again immediately for a second as bright sunlight blinds me momentarily.

When I open them again, I finally manage to take in the scenery around me. I am in an extremely dense forest and indeed lying on a patch of grass in a small clearing. I have absolutely no clue where I am. I try to remember how the forest in my city looks like, but I shake my head in growing frustration. It does not make any sense that I somehow would have found my way here.

I slowly notice that I am not dressed in my bikini any longer either, instead I am dressed in my dark skinny jeans with a long-sleeved shirt and my dark boots. Cautiously I reach out towards my right arm, shoving the sleeve upwards.

I blink dumbly at my arm for long moments. I can clearly remember that I have cut deeply into the arm, but all that is left of the undoubtedly large wound is a faint scar, as if that had happened months ago instead of only hours. I know that from a logical view the arm cannot have healed so quickly, it should still be bleeding profusely and not having faded into a thin reminder of a scar. 

Something about this forest makes me pause. I am pretty sure that I have never been here. I have never been into hiking or such. I have always been the typical beach holiday type of person. Although I am certain that I have never set foot into this forest, something about it rings weirdly familiar, which only confuses me further. _How can a place be familiar although I am sure to never have been there?_

I remember the film “The lovely bones” and immediately wonder _“Am I in some form of heaven?”_

I have never really payed what happens after death too much mind. Every time I have wondered about it, I usually just feared that death would indeed not be the absolution I have been hoping for and right now, I am unsure of what to think.

I wonder if calling out makes sense, but I am unsure if I am alone or not and something clogs my throat, making it impossible to speak up.

Slowly, I get to my feet, deciding that just staying in this place makes little sense. No matter where I am currently, I can just look around and do some exploring.

I move through the forest at a slow pace. I am not exactly talented in hiking and usually managed to trip on a perfectly flat surface, so, I am careful not to get hurt. I somehow highly doubt that I would find a doctor in the vicinity in case I manage to break a bone with my typical clumsiness.

Although I have never been the biggest fan of nature, even I have to acknowledge how beautiful this forest looks. Its wildness fascinates me, it appears almost untouched by humanity and I had not been aware that such a place still existed on earth. I still have no idea of where I am or how I have gotten here.

No matter how careful I am, I of course still manage to get a foot caught on a root I have overlooked and immediately trip to the ground with a startled yelp. I barely manage to shoot my hands out in time to catch myself at least partly before I crash to the ground face first. 

I can already feel that both my wrists smart uncomfortably from catching my whole weight and that I have scraped my knees, but I immediately forget the sensation of pain when my eyes fall onto what must be a skull directly in front of me on the ground.

With a slight grimace I reach out towards the skull and my eyes widen in fright when I recognize that the shape of the skull does not match the anatomy of a human.

“What the fuck…” I mutter under my breath as my mind tries to process what it is seeing. The forest around me does not look as if it is a jungle. I have never been in a jungle but even I know that the climate is different and the trees look wrong for that too.

I try to remember if the form of the skull allows the conclusion that it belonged to some form of ape. But I discard that idea as well, remembering the first semester of biology. Apes with this long skull have grown extinct a long time ago.

For some weird reason I cannot pinpoint currently, the skull does seem familiar as well though. My eyes are alarmed now as I look around myself, hoping not to spot any possibly mutated animal.

I am utterly confused now and mutter under my breath of what I am sure right now. _“_You are not in Germany, you are in an unknown location, surrounded by possibly mutated beasts_” _I mutter to myself.

_“Absolutely no reason to panic” _I try to calm myself, feeling the panic wanting to take hold of my mind. “_Could I somehow have travelled back in time?” _I wonder. As dense as the forest was, I guess that such a forest will undoubtedly have existed in Germany in the past, but probably not anymore at least since the industrialisation. I am not familiar enough with botany to be able to identify by which trees exactly I am surrounded at all.

Nothing was making sense right now. I could quiet clearly remember how I had tried to take my own life. “_So, how in hell have I come to be in a forest god knows where and when?!” _I think with rising frustration at the whole situation.

My expression darkens visibly when I notice that it was just beginning to rain, too. I have always hated rain with a passion. I loved water itself, loved to swim, but getting wet by rain was a whole different story.

I of course lack any jacket or umbrella and I have no idea where I can search for shelter. So, I trudge through the forest with a dark look, cursing my fates in my mind. _“Had a peaceful death really be too much to ask for?”_ I wonder sarcastically.

My expression darkens even further when I can hear thunder resonating around me, as if the heaven itself had decided to answer my thoughts.

“Yeah, I get it!” I speak out loud through clenched teeth, glaring up at the sky and crossing my arms over my chest like a petulant child. I let them sink a moment later when I realize just how ridiculous I was behaving. No one was with me anyway.

I continue to walk through the forest, feeling my clothes slowly getting soaked. I just notice now that my curly hair is fastened into a high ponytail and the wet locks thankfully are not obscuring my view right now.

I could have sworn that I had worn my hair open when I had attempted to take my life, but I discard my mussing again. It hardly matters why my hair is styled differently. The much more pressing question is still where I am and if I am alone.

I have absolutely no idea what I am supposed to do if I do not find another human. I have never been longer in a forest than for an extended walk, never even camped really in a forest. I know that I will probably starve or die of some infection on my own in just a few days.

“_Too bad that Sabrina is not with me right now”_ I think and the thought of my best friend makes my chest clench painfully. The girl had vast knowledge of nature because she had been a scout since early childhood. She would not be so helpless right now.

My expression turns from moody to frightened when the graveness of the situation begins to truly sink in. I am alone, utterly alone in an unknown location without any kind of equipment. I am not feeling particular hungry or thirsty right now, but I know that this will change all too quickly. I could not even be sure on which plants would be safe to eat. If I had only agreed to partake in the survival course Sabrina had wanted to do and had found no one to go with her. I had immediately declined back then, telling her that I would hardly ever need survival skills out in the wild.

Although I have grown up in a really tiny village, I have never been much of the nature type. I had always dreamed about making a career in some metropole. I hated getting dirty, I hated camping and I absolutely loathed all kinds of insects.

Suddenly, I spot what appears to be a deer ahead of myself between the trees and I remain rooted to the spot. I had seen a few deer already back in my small village, where they lived on the fields surrounding it and in the tiny remainder of the forest. But I had never seen one up close. Carefully, I edge closer to the animal, forgetting to watch out for my steps and I of course manage to trip again.

The sounds I make when I try to catch my balance before falling once again, startles the deer and the animal abruptly turns into my attention.

The breath gets caught in my throat when my eyes lock with those of the deer and all I can think is _“No, no, no!!! This has to be a fucking joke…!!!”_

Its head was split in half and it looked horrendous.

I recognize the deer and suddenly everything clicks within my mind as the pieces fall into place. The forest, the deformed skull, the two-headed deer and the familiar feeling I had since waking up.

I recognize everything now. And although I recognize everything, my mind refuses to accept this.

_“It is utterly impossible to fall into the reality of the 100!”_ my thoughts argue against what a part of me has already acknowledged. I have watched the first season of the series so often, while writing my own fanfiction that I can vividly remember how the 100 encountered the very same deer, spotting the very same skull.

My breath hitches as my mind races. If I forget the impossibility of such a thing happening for a moment, then I need to find out at which point of the series I am currently.

I have read about this concept of a thing happening in probably a hundred Harry Potter fanfiction and I cannot deny the proof in front of my very eyes. _“Maybe I am in fact in a coma?” _I wonder thoughtfully, but as I feel the pain radiating through my wrists, I conclude that it doesn’t matter. If I can hurt myself, then maybe I could also die here. What would happen then?

Had the 100 already fallen from space? Had the Mountain already fallen?


	3. Chapter 3

I try to keep up with Anya’s fast pace, not that I am having much of a choice. Her hand is holding my wrist in an iron-like grip. I know how easily I bruise and I am already certain that by tomorrow, I will have a colourful bracelet of bruises around my wrist.

“I won’t try to …” I make a feeble attempt to convince the older woman to soften her grip.

“Quiet!” the woman hisses back, not even turning around to look in my direction and not slowing her fast pace either.

I understand why she wants me to remain silent. The Mountain Men were still roaming around, searching for her and Clarke. For a moment I internally wonder, if I somehow could help and change the fate of the Mountain Men. I am not sure if it would be possible and I am even less convinced that it actually is a good idea. Sure, the Mountain surely entailed innocent people, but the earth was fated to be destroyed soon enough anyway and it would only bring another group of people into the mix when the ALIE thing happened.

It is probably a wonder that I have not fallen down yet, although I have already stumbled more than once.

I am not sure if I imagine it or not, but Anya’s patience seems to thin further every time I stumble again and she has to steady me, before I bring both of us toppling down to the ground. I do not know if the fight between her and Clarke needs to happen, but the show made it appear as if Anya only respected Clarke afterwards. Would Anya speak for the Sky people in front of Lexa without the fight? Would it be possible that Lexa would listen to me? Would I even be allowed to meet with her at all?

“Are you searching for Clarke?” I try to question Anya a few moments later, trying hard to keep my tone low. I am completely unexperienced to navigate through a forest and I have no idea if the Mountain Men are still in earshot or not. I remember that Finn and Murphy would soon attack the village and how negatively this influenced the grounder’s view of the Sky people. Would it somehow be possible to intercept them on their way? On the one hand I know that watching Finn being executed must be what truly makes the Sky people respect, on the other hand I feel drawn to somehow keep as many alive as possible.

“She and her people have killed 300 hundred of my warriors. I need a price to show when I return to my people” Anya answers back after what feels like an eternity.

I have already been sure that she was not going to answer at all. I nod in acknowledgement, even though Anya’s back is facing towards me. She has used the same logic; she has told Clarke in the show.

I doubt that the woman is truly trusting me yet. There are so many questions coursing through my mind. The show has not shown really much of the grounders and I am so curious to find out if what I envisioned is even close to the truth or completely false.

I am wondering about how to formulate my questions without, when Anya abruptly stops. I am so taken by surprise, that I directly walk into her back, nearly falling to the ground again.

Anya glares at me as her grip on my wrist tightens even more “Watch out! You are unobservant” she chides me, voice dripping with disdain.

I let my gaze drop to the ground, nodding my head mutely. I know that I can be observant if I want to. I am observant to the moods of others, but I have never been observant of my surroundings. I could easily walk by other people without even noticing, bump into things or stumble because I had not been watching where I was going; I have always lived more within my head than in the world around me.

I am taken off guard by Anya suddenly beginning to walk again, stumbling again. Internally, I cuss my own clumsiness. I have always joked that I would probably die by breaking my neck in a stupid clumsy accident and the people who knew me closer, knew that the joke carried enough truth to become reality at one point.

I remain standing almost dumbly, when Anya suddenly lets go of my wrist unexpectedly, launching into a sprint. I try to make out where she disappeared between the trees. I find it illogical that the general would leave behind after dragging me through the woods for what feels like several hours now. I panic though with every second that passes. What if she does not return?

I still have no real clue where I am. Only the fact that I encountered Anya and Clarke proves that I am somewhere between the Mountain, the camp of the Ark and several grounder villages. For all I know though, I could easily walk right into the arms of the Mountain Men.

I have been able to stop Anya from killing me on sight, but to the other grounders I will surely appear like one of the Sky people and I do not know what their exact orders are currently. I still could just be killed on sight. I may able to recognize Indra, Nyko and Gustus, but not enough other grounders were introduced with their names in the show, to buy me enough time to explain myself.

I remain standing between the trees indecisively. Should I try to locate Anya and Clarke? Would Anya search for me? I can guess that the woman is puzzled by my appearance, but would I be important enough for her to seek for me?

I am almost relieved when I hear steps coming closer to me. I quickly recognize that it is Anya, dragging behind a clearly struggling Clarke.

The older woman is clearly surprised by the slight smile on my features when our gazes connect for a moment.

“Come!” Anya orders in a harsh tone, letting her gaze roam around us for a moment, probably looking out for Mountain Men “I will bring both of you to the commander now”.

I can almost see the general debating with herself if she needs to bind me as well, so I quickly nod in agreement, stepping in her direction and waiting for her to go ahead.

Not soon after, Clarke begins to try and convince Anya to let her go, but the general reacts in the same way she did in the show.

I wonder if it would be wise to tell both of them what would most likely happen, but I still fear if I may change the future too much, so I keep my mouth shut, letting them debate between themselves. I turn my attention to the nature around us instead, trying to blend out their argument altogether. For a brief moment, I can truly appreciate the beauty around us. I have never seen such untouched and wild nature before.

I momentarily am taken by surprise when Anya suddenly stumbles. I have no idea when Clarke has gotten hold of the dart of the Mountain which now stuck out of Anya’s neck.

“Are you going to help me or what?” Clarke turns to me, holding out her hands to free them of their bindings.

I slightly shrug my shoulders. I have wondered before how Clarke actually has managed to pull Anya through the forest on her own. Although Anya is thin, she is tall and muscular, so she undoubtedly is heavy as well.

In the end, I indeed do help Clarke. I know that she would not leave Anya behind, she wanted to use her to get into contact with Lexa. I just somehow need to get Anya away from the camp of the Ark, before she is shot like she was in the show.

My breath staggers when I lay my eyes on the surroundings of the drop ship. The air still smells horridly and although the show has shown that the warriors all burned alive, I have not really been prepared of the sight of the burned bones.

I turn back to Clarke and Anya when the general rises and although I know that they would be fighting now, watching it live, is weird. I do not know what I am supposed to do when Clarke and Anya begin to fight. I know that they will survive this fight, but standing beside it is utterly weird. Although I have watched the scene more than once on the show, seeing it live is another matter altogether. It looks so much more brutal and I wince in sympathy with every punch one of them get into the other.

Anya steps over to me when the fight is over. “You knew that this was going to happen” she says in a tone telling that it is more of an assumption than a question.

I nod “I knew that you both would survive. Your wounds need medical attention though” I try to caution her. I have no idea how she still manages to stand upright. She must be on the verge of physical exhaustion, but her eyes are focused and clear.

I have judged the way between the dropship and the camp of the Ark to be shorter. Darkness begins to fall around us and I feel the hairs on my neck rise when the illuminated parts of the Ark get into sight. I have no idea how far their guards actually can watch the forest. Impulsively, I seize hold of one of Clarke’s hands, stopping both of them where we stand, still between the trees.

“You need to separate here” I say to both of them, voice shaking slightly, feeling how important this moment was now.

Anya’s brows visibly furrow and Clarke seems confused as well. “Your guards will begin to shoot when we get in sight” I say in a clear tone. I hesitate for the briefest moment, before I turn my full attention to Anya “You will die here if you step closer”. I hope with all my might that I can prevent her death like this as Anya’s brown eyes widen in surprise.

A shot suddenly rings around us and Clarke lets out a surprised pained shout “Go!” she screams at us. The bullet has grazed her arm, just as it did in the show and I feel the adrenaline rush loudly through my ears, as Anya pulls me away and back deeper into the forest.


End file.
